Summary

Birth:
10 Mar 1921 1
Trout Run, Lycoming, Pennsylvania, United States 1
Death:
09 Sep 2005 1
Leesburg, Lake, Florida 1
Conflict Period:
World War II 1
Branch:
Army Air Forces 1
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Personal Details

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Birth:
10 Mar 1921 1
Trout Run, Lycoming, Pennsylvania, United States 1
Male 1
Death:
09 Sep 2005 1
Leesburg, Lake, Florida 1
Burial:
Burial Date: 16 Sep 2005 1
Burial Place: Florida National Cemetery - Bushnell, Florida 1
Physical Description:
Eye Color: Blue 1
Hair Color: Lt. Brown 1
Residence:
Place: Horseheads, New York 1
From: 1962 1
To: 1984 1
Residence:
Place: Canton, Bradford, Pennsylvania 1
From: 1922 1
To: 1941 1
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Birth:
Mother: Lela Gertrude Hill 1
Father: Frederick Wesley Barrow 1
Marriage:
Martha Jane Conrad 1
04 May 1951 1
Altoona, Blair, Pennsylvania 1
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World War II 1

Branch:
Army Air Forces 1
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Occupation:
Industrial Arts School Teacher 1

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  1. Contributed by sspaulding816238

Stories

Eulogy

 

 

In the front hallway, there are photos, mementos and objects. These things represent many things that made up my dad and some of the things that I remember.First and foremost – is a napkin from mom and dad’s wedding. They were married for 54 years. They stuck it out in the good times and bad. By today’s standards that not too shabby.The Angora Sweater – I truly don’t remember the event, but my dad was always taking pictures. When I was little, maybe 3 or 4 there is a film of my dad holding my sister, Deb, who was a baby at the time, chasing me on a green lawn. I was laughing and laughing and twirling that white Angora Sweater. The sweater is yellowed now and I’m sure it shrunk because it certainly doesn’t fit anymore – but that home movie is my favorite. And believe me there are rolls and rolls and rolls and rolls of film and boxes and boxes of slides and pictures. The Suitcase represents the trip we took cross country to California. Boy, we’re we so excited to go. Deb, Kim, and I saved up all of our loose change and birthday money just so we’d be able to go to Disneyland went we got to California. Dad was busy shooting pictures of all the places we’d seen and been to. He was so excited and couldn’t wait for us to see Jenny Lake and Old Faithful Geyser. We panned for gold at Knotts Berry Farm. I have no clue what state where we were in, but dad stopped the car and we went traipsing through a field to see a herd of Elk, up close and personal. Looking back, it was a pretty dumb thing to do, but he wanted us to really see them. Poor, Kim, she was cover from head to toe with so many bug and mosquito bites when we got back in the car we couldn’t count them all. We made it to Disneyland and the funniest moment was when the 3 of us were riding the teacups and Captain Hook “ hooked mom”. You should have seen the look on her face. The suitcase also reminds me of how dad would pack a car. He had a method. Watching Scott when he packs a car or U-Haul (he’s moved way too many times since he’s been in college) reminds me of dad – both of them have a mean way with a suitcase. I don’t recall dad teaching Scott to pack – but it just must be in the genes. The Sand reminds me of dad because he liked the beach. Well maybe it was really mom who liked the beach – but we always went there. For years and years, we’d make our way to Myrtle Beach. When Doug and I were first married, we’d go to the beach and we’d take our boys to the beach. I guess we’re a beach type of family – except maybe my son David. He’s not too keen on the beach, but he does like fishing. Dad taught David to fish or tried to teach David to fish. It was funny watching the two of them, dad would get so exasperated with him because he just wouldn’t listen, he had his own theories on catching fish. Dad knew just how to cast the line, hold the rod, and whatever else you do when you fish. Dad had his way and David had his – but the two of them loved to fish – and when we’d come to visit – that’s what they did. I also brought a few of dad’s tools, a piece of wood, an apple, a CD and his military hat. Dad’s profession was a teacher- the apple symbolizes his profession.and the tools because he taught shop. The wood, because he had an amazing talent and skill for turning wood into beautiful pieces of furniture. I know he never thought of himself as an artist, but he was. The CD, because my dad loved music. He played trumpet in his high school band, he sang in the church choir – he sang at my wedding, in fact he sang at all of our weddings. The Air Force hat because he served in WWII. Serving his country meant a lot to dad. We’re here today in a church honoring my dad. He felt strongly about his faith. As I was growing up, he brought us to church every week. As a teenager, I wasn’t too thrilled about getting up on Sunday. I asked my Aunt Freet one day about it, dad going to church every Sunday. She said that it was a promise he made to God - that if he came back alive from the war he’d go to church and be thankful that he had survived. He worked hard for what he had. Mom told me that at one time he worked three jobs to support us. Dad loved all his girls – although he didn’t quite understand us at times. As we got older, he never understood the mall and I guess our fascination with it. There was no fascination – just a place to go and something to do. It absolutely drove him crazy. He always thought we went there to spend money. It’s not that we didn’t shop and spend – but it was more of a girl thing. The last thing I want to share is about the small chest and the gold coins. Dad never thought of himself as a rich or successful man. The one thing that he always felt compelled to do was to make things better for us three girls and to provide for mom, help others when he could, and be a friend. He believed that he had skills and knowledge to share and pass on. We could just never get him out of his teacher mode… now that drove us crazy. He never thought we listened to him… he never thought we heard him. It broke my heart to hear him say that he didn’t do enough. You just never could get through to him that he did what he had always set out to do. He and mom saw to it that his daughters were educated. He taught us how to be kind and care about others. He pounded it into our heads to be there for each other and to take care of each other. He taught us to appreciate the things we have. He instilled in us work ethics. He gave us the opportunity to travel and to laugh at the little things and cry over the big things and when we did - there would be someone there to stand with you. He had a solid circle of friends. He never thought we listened or heard him. We heard ya, dad. I do save money – I have a 401K plan, and I do have insurance. I also know the difference between a hammer and a screw driver – I even know that there is a flat head screw driver and a Philips head screwdriver. I don’t know how to use them but I know that Sears makes them and Sears is in the mall.

 

 

 

Robert H. Barrow, my grandfather: by David Robert Spaulding

My grandfather, Robert Hill Barrow

When my grandfather passed away in September of 2005, my grandmother found a letter in a file that he had written in regards to his life.

He wrote about his "happy times" and things he enjoyed in his life. He said there was fly fishing, hunting, running the dated outboard on a  lake, his hoetown, and being part of his school's band during its formative years. He said that all of the above helped "make growing up a wonderful time of life". And that of all of his pleasures and thrills could not be "better described than relating to the gift of a snowmobile" from his wife, Marty. That's my grandmother, Martha Jane Conrad.

"There are times when a few words can mean so very much. One of the most emotional times occurred when I returned home from the Philippines at the end of World War II, called my mother on the phone and in a very emotional state was able to uter two words, "I'm Home!"

Robert H. Barrow was born March 10, 1921 in Trout Run, Pennsylvania. He was the youngest of three c hildren. His father died when he was fairly young and he took over supporting the family. Needless to say, the family did not have a lot of money.

From the records I've seen, he was a fairly decent student in school. He played the trumpet in the high school band. One of the things that we would talk about and one of the few things we could relate about was that he was of small stature in school and took a lot of flak from the bullies for it.

His father, Frederick Wesley Barrow, died at the age of 40, leaving a wife and three young children. My grandfather was the youngest. His older sister, Harriette supported the family. She worked he way through college and heled my grandfather go to college as well.  Education was very important to him, as he knew that education was important to be able to support yourself as you got older. They both attended Millersville State College, and both became teachers.

He was exceptionally talented with his hands and woodworking and recei ved his degree in Industrial Arts. Upon graduating his first job was at Keith Junior High School in Altoona, Pennsylvania.

It was during his first teaching assignment that he wrote to his mother his concern about the war. And as the was was accelerating, he kew that he would have to enlist.

According to the U.S. World War II Army Enlistment Records from 1938 to 1941, he enlisted on November 14, 1943 into the Army Reserves, Air Corp Branch and was listed as a machinist helper.

My first memories of my grandfather are great. He lived in Big Flats, New York in a small neighborhood. There was a small pond near his house and a trail going up through the woods up on a hill. And one of my earliest memories was of him taking me up the trail to gather acorns during the fall.

There are two other early memories of him that essentailly defined the conflict between us over the years.

He had a beautiful half acre lawn. And in it, there was a birch tree. I was too young to remember any sigifican details, however, I would assume that gypsy moths were a problem there. And he had set traps to capture them and prevent them from damaging the trees. One day I was playing in his yard and I saw the trap. I couldn't have been older than 6, so I had absolutely no understanding of how destructive gypsy mothers were. Al I know is that I wanted to save them. So I kept swatting at the trap, which was hanging from a tree limb to set them free. I guess my grandfather had seen me swatting at it.  I don't remember any details, however, my mother tells me that he came running in the house yelling at my parents to do something.  He was huffing and puffing telling my parents that I had said "But they have a right to live!"  Apparently, everyone in the houses thought the whole scene was hilarious and couldn't stop laughing and my mother said, "well he has a point."

I inherited from my grandfather my love of fishing. Not that I ever wanted to kill the fish and eat them like he did on occasion. I just loved the sport of it and I absolutely loved going fishing with him. I remember that there were nights we would go searching for nightcrawlers in his yeard the night before. He'd hold a flashlight and we'd carefully walk around looking for them. As soon as we spotted them, I'd try to grab it before it dug back into the earth. After we got a few, I'd go and wash up and go to bed so at 5 or 6 o'clock in the morning, he could wake me up so we could go before sunrise.

We'd get to whatever pond or lake or river we were going to. But after we got there is what would also help to define the conflict between us as far as the actual fishing would go, it was his way or no way.  He would want me to cast and simply leave the worm in the water and just wait for the bobber to move. Now, being 4, 5, or 6 years old, I didn't have patience. So I would slowly start to reel in. Very slowly. At first this was so I could hurry up and cast again. However, I quickly learned that the slightly movement would attract fish and I'd start to get bites. It didn't take me too long to get this method down pat. However, it didn't matter to my grandfather how many more fish I caught this way, or that I could catch nearly 10 to every one he caught. I was still doing it wrong, so it didn't matter that I caught more. My method was wrong.

His best friend from his early childhod days, Olen Smith, had also enlisted in the arm in June of 1944. He served in the European Theater and participated in the Battle of the Bulge. Sometime after the battle, he had been scheduled to return home; however, he was kept at the location and assigned to the burial detail. This severly impacted his life and like my grandfather, he never disclosed details of his ime. Though neither of them spoke much about what they have done or witnessed in the war, their participation seemed to bond their friendship. My grandmother got this little bit of information from Olen about one or two years before my grandfather's passing. She never realized the strength of the bond between them all of these years. Olen continues to send emails to my grandfather to this day, despite the fact my grandfather passed nearly 3 years ago.

When my grandfather enlised, he signd up as a tail gunner. His sister, Harriette was working for the State Department in D. C. and was so upset that she talked to some peole and had them get him reassigned. I know that he ended u swerving active duty in the Philippines as a Air Force maintainence man and that at some point he was working on teh B-17 that was parked somewhere close enough that he saw the Enola Gay, the B-29 that dropped the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan, on August 6, 1945.

After the war, he contnued to serve his country as a n Air Force reservist, reaching and retired at the rank of Lt. Col. He went back to his teaching job, and my mother tells me that he was during this time he was actually supposed to have a date with my grandmother's sister, Winifred, but she stood him up and my grandmother stepped in.

My grandfather and grandmother, Martha Jane Conrad, started dating around 1948. While they were dating, my grandfather continued his education at Penn State University and obtained his Masters Degree. They were married in 1951 at St. James Lutheran Church in Altoona, Pennsylania. My Great Aunt Winifred was my grandmother's maid of honor.

In 1962, he received notice that he would be needed to return to active duty during the Bay of Pigs conflict with Cuba. At that time, the family had moved from Pennsylvania to New York State, where my mother and her sisters grew up. He was still a teacher at the time, being employed by the Steuben County School District and still taught Industrial Arts. He had started making all of the provision to go back to active duty. Fortunately, Cuba had backed down and my grandfather did not have to return to active duty.

Robert and Martha had three girls, the eldest being my mother. Her name is Susan and to her relief, thanks go to my Great Aunt Winifred.  If my grandfather had his way, her name would have been Roberta. Winifred convinced him otherwise.

 

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